Rouge Allure
by gabrielfuckingagreste
Summary: His name is on Nathalie's skin, and her's on his, but he's a married man. Soulmate AU feat. Nathalie Sancoeur and Gabriel Agreste.
1. Chapter 1

She picked out her outfit for the day, a wide-necked, powder-blue blouse and black trousers, along with black heels. Her fingers soon went to her hair, twisting the scarlet and ebony locks into a neat bun. She slipped on her glasses, and applied her lipstick as though it were armor.

 _Gabriel Agreste's assistant. Day one,_ she thought, locking the door to her tiny apartment. This wasn't how she wanted to make use of her MBA, but the company was on the rise, and she was sure that in a few years, she'd work her way up to VP, at least. And that salary was killer. Nathalie Sancoeur was already looking at higher-end condos.

Her eyes flitted to the Agreste Headquarters, where the Gabriel brand was based. It was a gorgeous building, and she got to step inside. The first floor was a couture house, but the sales assistants already knew who she was, and sent her up an elevator to the top floor.

She opened the door to what would be her office, looking at the man sitting at what would be her desk. He smiled encouragingly. His name was Louis, and he was inevitably leaving to create a tech start-up, or something? She wasn't sure, she hadn't paid attention.

His soulmate's signature was written across his forearm. At first, she mistook it for a tattoo, but it was clearly the signature of the woman he was destined to be with for the rest of his life.

They were incredibly rare for people their age, but some were lucky, and met their soulmates. Some simply weren't.

"He's waiting for you, just head straight in." The man gestured to the door.

Nathalie nodded, "Are you sure? Shouldn't I knock."

"The man _loathes_ knocking. It's a waste of time." Louise answered, "He has his schedule in front of him, he knows you're coming."

She crossed the threshold of the office, and opened the door. The office was impeccable, the palette a mix of lavender, white, and black. "Monsieur Agreste?" Nathalie's voice echoed. The room had phenomenal acoustics.

Gabriel was pinning fabrics to a mannequin. He didn't turn to meet her, "You must be Nathalie Sancoeur. Have a seat. I'll join you in a moment. ."

She glanced at the white couch, which faced a large window of Paris, which he was looking out as he worked. Sitting down, she swallowed, "Thank you for hiring me."

"Your resume was far too impressive to pass up." He answered, spinning the black mannequin around to pin the backside. "It's rare to find someone with an MBA and a double-undergrad in art and accounting."

Exhaling, she let herself lean back slightly, watching him work. He finally turned, and immediately blanched. Nathalie noticed as soon as his face paled, and he looked away, his hand touched to his collarbone.

 _Oh god, what if he hates me?_ She thought, _break the silence,_ "Is everything alright, sir?"

He shot her a weak smile, and stiffened, "You have a soulmate's signature under your left clavicle, Miss Sancoeur."

Flushing, she replied without thinking, "I don't have a…" Nathalie trailed off, and pursed her lips. "It's your signature, isn't it?"

Gabriel bit the inside of his cheek, and nodded. The man strode over to his desk, and bent down to the bottom-most drawer. "Thankfully, there was a time at my brand where we couldn't afford make-up artists, and I had to pick up the slack."

"You're not going to fire me?"

Peeking up from behind the desk, he started setting makeup products onto the surface. "Uh…no? Why would I?" He looked at her quizzically, "Believe me, if the universe thinks we go together _perfectly,_ I'm not going to pass you up to be my assistant." Gabriel glanced back down, his light blonde hair slightly falling over his face.

Nathalie glanced down to the coffee table and stared at the cover of his look book, where a picture of his supermodel wife was printed on the cover. "Aren't you married?"

"Technically a newlywed, hence why I'm covering up that signature before Charlotte sees it." He replied, trying to sound detached, as he sat on the couch, facing her. He held up a sponge (already dipped into the yellow-tinted cream) as though it were a sword.

"I can manage some color-corrector and foundation, Monsieur Agreste." Nathalie told him, "You probably shouldn't touch me."

He nodded, and stood. She got to work, staring at the lavender-colored signature in a compact. "I'm sure this isn't how you imagined meeting your soulmate." He eventually stated, twiddling his thumbs.

She was trying to blend as best she could. Nathalie rolled her eyes, "I never imagined meeting my soulmate, Monsieur Agreste. This may come as a shock, but I never _wanted_ a soulmate to begin with."

It wasn't a lie. Nathalie knew that she was heartless, and that she and her emotions were in a long-distance relationship with one another.

She had pushed away enough boyfriends through her teenage years, because although she was present in those relationships, she never actually loved any of them. When they accused her of such, she didn't lie. Nathalie Sancoeur didn't say those three words unless she meant it, and no one in her life (except her mother and sister) had heard her say those words.

And another thing: soulmate signatures were supposed to be _dying out._ Nathalie's parents had soulmate marks. Most people of that generation did. Nathalie's generation didn't really have it. It wasn't happening as often anymore, which created a weird effect. Something that was once so common had truly regained its magic when it happened.

The man grinned at her, "Then this will work perfectly. Let's never speak of this again."

Nathalie nodded, trying to ignore him as she blended on foundation over yellow color corrector. "Agreed." She replied quickly.

Still, something was itching at the back of her mind. _What was it about this man that makes the universe think that we'd be perfect together?_ She stared into the compact mirror, trying to recall what she knew about him.

' _fashion designer married to a rich supermodel'_ was the only adequate thing she could come up with.

There wasn't much to be done about the signature, which was proving difficult to cover up. She set the damn makeup with finishing powder, and undid her professional bun. Combing her fingers through her hair, she brushed a considerable section forward, letting it fall over her chest gently.

He wasn't looking at her at all. She stood, and smoothed down her trousers, "What was it that you wanted to discuss?"

Gabriel scowled, "I was going to go over daily operations, give you some spiel about how I like my coffee, something about schedules and the best way to get in contact with me at any given time." He strolled over to his desk, "I'm fairly positive that you can figure it out."

Nathalie stood, quite literally rising to the challenge. "I could."

"Louise can give you a copy of the day's schedule. Shadow him at the appropriate times." He dismissed her, "HR will also want to see you as well."

"Of course," She nodded, heading out the door, "Thank you for the opportunity, again."

He didn't smile. In fact, he looked slightly pained, "Of course."

* * *

Gabriel was defeated when he entered the condo. He immediately flocked to the bureau in the front room, and poured himself a glass of scotch, retrieved from the cabinet.

"Honey." Charlotte peaked her head out from under the kitchen. "It's a weekday. Why are you drinking hard liqueur?"

The man sighed. In reality, he should've gone to his ancestral home to have a drink before entering their abode. The mansion stood empty, and his wife preferred something cozier to nest in, hence the condo.

 _The scotch at the mansion would taste better, too_ , he thought. "Just a hard day." He told her. _I should've brought flowers._

She trekked over to him. Charlotte had started that pregnant waddle thing, but she was graceful enough. Leaning up, she kissed him on the cheek, her lips brushing his five o'clock shadow. "What happened?"

"I have a soulmate signature." He told her pointedly, his eyes shutting as placed his hand on the dark wooden bureau.

Charlotte exhaled. "I—I don't know what to say."

"What is there to say, Charlotte?" He replied, "Obviously, I love you and only you, and no one else is getting in the way of that, but it's ridiculous."

She smirked slightly, "How so?"

"Look at us!" He looked at her, "We're in the fashion industry. We meet hundreds upon hundreds of people a year and neither of us were marked, and Louis' replacement just _happens_ to be the person the universe has picked out for me?"

Her expression darkened, "Your soulmate is your new assistant?"

Gabriel groaned, "She's _not_ my soulmate. She's not anything to me."

"Of course." Charlotte turned away, retreating into the kitchen.

He followed her, she had been making dinner when he came home, and now she was resuming it. "Charlotte. You know me. You're my iwife. You're the mother of what's eventually going to be my child."

She nodded severely.

"Peacock."

"Stop." Charlotte's voice was on the verge of breaking. "We're not—"

His arms went around her waist, his hands on her belly, "You're my _partner,_ Charlotte Agreste. No one will ever come between us. Not even this so-called 'soulmate.'"

She turned around, and his arms fell to the counter on either side of her. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers for a moment, testing the waters to see if she'd continue. Charlotte dove up to meet him again, enveloping him into a passionate kiss.

* * *

The next day, Nathalie wore a strict button up shirt, gray in color, and burgundy trousers. She loathes anything so restricting on her neck. Growing up in a small, beach town on the coast of France where the dress was always 'casual' makes a desk job vexing.

Gabriel entered the office twenty minutes after her, brushing through with a quick 'good morning'. Nathalie stood, and immediately began to fix his coffee. Louise was gone, and she was left in charge. Thankfully, she picked it up fairly quickly.

Placing a croissant on the tray, she poured a glass of orange juice, and carried the tray into his office. He was sitting at his desk, his fingers pounding the keyboard as though his life depended on it. She set the tray down on his desk.

"We have to alterations for the spring collection in a half hour, correct?"

"Correct." She affirmed, "Then you have a first consultation with a Jagged Stone at 11. He wants a set of outfits for his upcoming concert tour."

"Jagged Stone?"

"An up-and-coming rock singer, sir. I've been told that he's quite popular." Nathalie told him. "He said he wanted no less than five costume changes."

The man nodded, and glanced away, "What's my lunch look like?"

"It's free." She told him.

He smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Make a reservation somewhere for my wife and I, in that case. Ask her where she wants to go."

Nathalie nodded, and retreated to her own office.

She sat at the desk. _You knew you'd have to talk to her eventually._

Charlotte Agreste answered immediately, "Yes?"

"Madame Agreste? This is Nathalie Sancoeur, Monsieur Agreste's new assistant." _Barrel through._ "Where would you like to go for lunch? I'm making reservations."

The woman chuckled slightly, "Le Meurice would be fine."

"Of course, I'll get you—"

"Madamoiselle Sancoeur." Charlotte cut her off.

Frozen, she tried to recover quickly, "Yes, Madame?"

"When _my husband_ inevitably asks you to have flowers delivered," Charlotte told the woman, "Make sure he orders peonies."

"Of course." Nathalie replied, right before Charlotte hung up.

Sighing, she scratched the inside of her wrist, and proceeded to curse under her breath. Nathalie picked up the phone, again, and started to get that reservation.

Nathalie, twenty minutes later, was discovered at her desk, coolly arguing with the front-of-house manager at Le Meurice. "Agreste…Yes, you heard me, at one. _Yes,_ both Charlotte and Gabriel. Wherever you seat them is fine, thank you. I'll let them know."

She hung up the phone, and relished in the silence as she stood up, hoping to meet this 'Jagged Stone' at the elevator.

Or, so, she thought. as a storm of energy burst through the door. Jagged Stone looked like a punk pirate, and he carried a tiny alligator in his arms as though it were a Yorkshire terrier. Following him, was a surprisingly normal woman, with purple hair that was cut into a professional pixie.

"Woah, totally wicked office!" He was the kind of man who could say something positive about almost everything. "Is that Gabriel dude in?"

Nathalie went into autopilot, letting Jagged Stone, and his assistant, Penny Rolling, into her boss's office. She made the proper introductions, fetched everyone coffee (Gabriel had a second cup), and took a seat on the couch.

Gabriel told her to take notes, which she did on a notepad and paper, until 'The Jagged Stone Incident' occurred.

The Jagged Stone Incident refers too an event occurring around the year 2000, during one of Nathalie Sancoeur's first days as Gabriel's executive assistant. The story is a something of legend within the fashion community, because Jagged Stone and Gabriel later joked about it together during a Christmas party that following year. It is also said that during this Christmas party, Nathalie Sancoeur changed her facial expression for the first time since the late eighties, when she discovered that Gabriel Agreste was joking about the entire affair.

"Hey Nath, you don't mind holding Fang, do you?" Jagged Stone placed the tiny alligator onto her lap, grinning wildly, while a horrified Penny and Gabriel looked on.

Nathalie was probably zoned out, taking notes, and she replied that it was perfectly fine, right as the scaly thing landing on her thighs. She pressed her lips tightly together. _Don't scream._

Fang did every attempt to cuddle up to her, and she did every attempt to get away without drawing attention to herself. The assistant awkwardly pet the scales of the alligator, which proved to create an extremely-low, rumbling sound, which might've been purring.

 _Just take notes._ She told herself, making brief eye contact with Gabriel.

Her eyes widened slightly. _That jackass is laughing at me!_ She could see the slight smile on his lips, the way his balled fist fought the trembles of laughter.

Later, when the meeting ended, Nathalie carried the alligator into her office, following Gabriel, Penny, and Jagged Stone.

Penny smiled slightly, her voice crisp, "So when can we expect sketches?"

Gabriel paused, and looked at Nathalie, his eyes trained, "What do we have for next Thursday?"

Nathalie smiles widely, _perfect._ "I believe I'll have to double-check the schedule—"

It's at this point that Nathalie hands the baby alligator to Gabriel Agreste, who takes it instinctively, as he looks straight into her eyes as she's talking. Maybe he was too distracted by the blue of her eyes, or he was trying to memorize her face. Either way, his hands take the alligator off her's in a such a smooth motion, Nathalie can't help but wonder if this is all just a painful dream.

"—but I'm fairly certain that you're free between three and five." She turned to Jagged Stone and Penny. "Is that alright with your schedule?"

Gabriel stifles a cough, and is now holding the tiny alligator. She almost flashed a him a devious grin, but she knows that it's a moot point. The man already knew that it was revenge.

It's at this point that Charlotte Agreste makes her entrance, and looks rather shocked at the entire situation.

" _Girl_." Jagged Stone greets her, effectively making the word two syllables instead of one. "You told me you were pregnant but you didn't say _this_ pregnant!"

She hugs him warmly. "Yes. Super pregnant." Charlotte glanced around, amused. "I'm sorry for interrupting. Gabriel and I have reservations for lunch." Her eyes brushed over Nathalie in passing.

 _Did he tell her?_ She wondered.

"Of course." Jagged Stone smiled widely, "Who am I to get in the way of true love? Please, go! Enjoy married life without children while you still can!"

"All of your children are in college, Jagged." Charlotte told him, her laughter sparkling.

"My age is an enigma." He answered defiantly, taking Fang out of Gabriel's arms.

The man noticeably exhaled, and the corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. "Yes, of course. Nathalie will iron out the schedule. Have a lovely day."

The woman sat her her desk, and typed several things into the blocky monitor on her desk and nodded. "3 o'clock on Thursday, then?"

Penny nodded, "That would be perfect."

Finally, Nathalie is alone in her office. Seeing Charlotte Agreste in person had taken a slightly toll. Of course, she knew what the model looked like. Blonde, green eyes, beauty icon. At least two of her fifteen-year-old cousins had her poster on the wall. She knew the woman was an Aphrodite.

What she didn't expect was the way she carried herself. Nathalie knew that a lot of it was makeup, and phony confidence in front of a camera, but the woman was no Aphrodite, no creature of love. She couldn't be described by a Greek god archetype, in fact.

Nathalie tried to pinpoint the emotions on Charlotte's face when they made brief eye contact. When Gabriel returns from lunch, alone, it finally hits her. That expression that Madame Agreste made was to clear.

Charlotte looked at her with no feeling inside of her at all.


	2. Chapter 2

Three months later, there was a knock on Nathalie's door. The apartment was newly moved in, and Nathalie was still unpacking boxes.

She doesn't have friends in Paris. There was no point checking the peephole to see who it was. Nathalie already knew.

They had been acting as though nothing had happened, which was rather difficult, because their first impressions of each other had been the soulmate thing. Something had to give, she knew. Someone would crack.

Nathalie had tried her best. She saw Charlotte on a regular basis. The woman had had her baby, a blonde boy by the name of Adrien, and therefore returned to modelling and working around the office. Gabriel's wife hadn't said a word to her beyond what was required of her professionally. There was no mention of soulmate signatures.

Still, Gabriel was overcompensating. When the three of them were in a room, Gabriel was always closer to Charlotte, always extra attentive, always smiling to break the tension.

She had placed a decorative mirror over a small end table by the door. It was the spot where she put her keys, and she used the mirror to check to see if his signature was showing, embossed on her skin.

"Monsieur Agreste." She opened the door, wearing work jeans and a loose-fitting, scoop-neck tee. It was early on a Sunday, and they weren't required at the office until three in the afternoon for a final fitting for the Spring collection fashion show, which was occurring in one week.

His eyes flashed down to her shoulders, and he blinked. Gabriel was wearing a strict suit, and he held a box that looked as though were from a department store, with his logo on the front. "You need a dress for the fashion show."

"I already have an outfit planned, sir." She replied, opening the door wider to let him inside.

He glanced around, bewildered at the strict design of the place. The main room was the living room, and there was a hallway that lead into the kitchen, an archway that lead to a dining room, and a door that lead to her bedroom. It was a Spartan style of red and black, accented by purple flowers.

Gabriel turned to her, and handed her the box. "I can't let you come to the show without wearing one of my designs."

 _Good,_ she thought, _I don't want to go._ Nathalie had handled the seating arrangement, and initially tried to seat herself in the back row, but Gabriel had forced her to sit next to his wife, front row. She set the box down on the coffee table, and wondered if his wife knew where he was.

Opening the box, she pulled away the lavender-colored tissue, revealing a viridian-colored garment. "Shouldn't you be…" Nathalie tried to find the right word, "…focused on the collection, sir?"

"I should." He agreed, smiling gently. "I have some time for alterations, if you're not busy?"

She nodded, and murmured something about changing in her bed room. Nathalie made a quick escape into her bed room, shutting the door to change and look at the dress properly.

It was a high-neck affair, with a low back. Although the fitted bodice was one solid color, the skirt section was embroidered and full, with artful blue and green spring leaves. It stopped just at her knees, and was incredibly flattering.

Nathalie emerged into the living room, where Gabriel was sitting politely. "You realize that I live alone, right?" She turned, revealing that the back was left unzipped.

Gabriel stood, and she shut her eyes as his steps echoed through the apartment. His fingers brushed her bare back, as he zipped up the dress. Nathalie stepped forward and turned. The man laughed aloud.

Her eyes narrowed, and she glanced away, not wanting to acknowledge the flush that fell over her cheeks. "Sir?"

He stopped laughing, and straightened up, "You look stunning, Mademoiselle Sancoeur."

"Your laughter suggests otherwise." She answered tersely. "The dress fits fine, Monsieur Agreste, as you can tell."

"I'll need to see it in heels to be sure. What shoes are you wearing?" He asked her, being shamelessly controlling.

Scowling, she replied, "You can see me at the show, sir, I assure you." _You're forcing me to sit by you._

Gabriel's eyes darkened, "Things don't have to be awkward, Nathalie."

The girl stiffened and stared at him, but said nothing.

"This _soulmate_ thing." He told her, "We can be—there's no reason why we can't be friends."

 _I can think of at least one good reason._ "What about your wife?"

He blinked, "What about her?"

Nathalie shifted, there was question that had been burning in the back of her mind since she first laid eyes on the woman. "Does she know?"

Incredulous, he furrowed his brows, "Why wouldn't she?"

Nathalie rolled her eyes, and turned around, "Please unzip me, sir." There was so little need for conversation, after all. They were soulmates, they were each five moves ahead of their spoken words.

Gabriel obliged, and his hand was on her shoulder for a moment, before moving away. "Charlotte knew from day one."

"She acts indifferent."

" _I_ act indifferent. _You_ act indifferent." He replied.

There was nothing indifferent about Charlotte Agreste. She had seen the woman smile and laugh over trifles. Nathalie had once overhead the blonde screaming at Gabriel over his work schedule. The woman was a force to be reckoned with, and the assistant did everything to stay out of her way.

She turned to him, a slight fire in her eyes, "You're not acting indifferent now, are you?"

He huffed out slightly, in agreement, and looked away, "I suppose I'm not." His eyes lingered on hers, the question clear, "I assure you, this isn't—"

"It has already gone too far, please excuse me. You can let yourself out of my apartment." She brushed him off, not letting him complete his sentence. She saw his brief flash of anger (the man hated being interrupted). Nathalie turned around and went to her bedroom, shedding the dress as though she were being exorcised.

 _Keep it together_. Nathalie told herself behind the closed door, not breathing until she heard her front door open and close. Gabriel Agreste, at that moment, was like a spring rain on her skin.

She locked her knees, leaning against the door of her bedroom. _A man who's willing to cheat on his wife with you is no man you want, Nathalie Sancoeur._

Another thought paraded across her conscious.

 _You're his soulmate, and he's yours. He wouldn't cheat on you if you had him wrapped around your finger._

She finally exhaled, and her emotional indifference resurfaced.

A week later, when a reporter complimented her dress, Charlotte coolly answered that Gabriel's tailoring was always perfect, her eyes staring into Nathalie's, which shook the assistant to her core.

* * *

Things had remained normal for another eight months with Gabriel Agreste and Nathalie Sancoeur. It wasn't until December that things had really taken a turn.

"Nathalie." He told her one morning, "You're aware that there's a Christmas party this year, yes?"

She nodded, "I was told that it was an annual function."

Gabriel smiled at her, "Well, as you know, it's for the company, there's investors, editors, all the employees. It's held at the mansion, and Charlotte needs help organizing it."

The woman smiled, "I can contact an event planner, sir. When would you like them to start?"

The man paused, and shot his assistant a polite smile. Nathalie's expression didn't change, but she did pale slightly. "I would like you to assist her."

She didn't argue, as he had already made up his mind. "Who's going to watch my desk?"

"I can handle myself for the next week, I assure you." Gabriel replied.

 _Seven days._

That's how Nathalie found herself standing in the foyer of a grand home, with a Charlotte Agreste, holding a young, blonde heir. Nathalie was clutching onto a notebook.

Charlotte Agreste didn't smile, "Thank you for coming."

"Of course." Nathalie answered. "What can I do?"

The model brushed back a strand of gold-spun hair, "Well, obviously, I want an event planner."

Gaping, she replied, "I—"

"Gabriel wants us to spend time together." Charlotte replied, holding her toddler, "The man thinks that if I happen to _like_ you, I'll stop trying to convince him to fire you."

 _I really need to give her more credit. She's smarter than she let's on._

Nathalie swallowed, gripping her notebook tightly with her left hand. Her fingers on her right hand were loose around a pencil, however, so that it would not break.

The woman glared at her, sneering, "I don't care that you're his 'soulmate', Nathalie Sancoeur."

The assistant thought that her boss could be cold.

Charlotte Agreste made Gabriel look like a hot cup of tea. The way the model had said her name made her think that it was never her name to begin with. Was she _really_ Nathalie Sancoeur?

"I don't care how good you are at your job." Charlotte went on, flatly. "You will never come between Gabriel and I, no matter the magic at play."

"I have no intentions—"

The blonde shot her a disapproving smile. "No intentions? Don't insult my intelligence. He is my husband."

Nathalie paused, and gathered herself, "I'm not going to pretend to understand how you feel towards me, Madame Agreste." _Don't look at the kid,_ she told herself, "I'm not interested in Monsieur Agreste."

"You're not." The statement was clear. Charlotte did not believe her.

 _Inhale._ "I'm not out to make my life harder, Madame, and I've found that my life is always significantly harder when it comes to pursuing a relationship." Nathalie allowed herself a slight smile. "If I wanted your husband, as you've accused me, wouldn't I have had him by now?"

Charlotte bit her lips, and exhaled loudly.

After all, Nathalie was the woman who was Gabriel's soulmate. How could Charlotte not like her, even just a tiny bit? It was a simple theory. Gabriel loved Charlotte. Charlotte loved Gabriel. Gabriel is supposed to love Nathalie, because they go together. Charlotte should at least like Nathalie, due to her striking resemblance to Gabriel, right?

Wrong.

The answer was simple: Charlotte Agreste was very, very, very, very stubborn.

"Of course not. You will never come between him and I." She answered, turning away, bouncing the baby slightly, "Get an event planner. You can take the week off."

Nathalie swallowed, and resumed her position as an executive assistant. "I'm afraid I can't do that. Monsieur Agreste asked me personally to assist you in all matters regarding the Christmas party. I promise you, I'm more qualified than most event planners in town."

Charlotte's mouth formed a thin line. "What can I do to convince you that I don't need your help?"

"Let's start with decorations." Nathalie ignored her, "What would you prefer?"

The woman sighed, "Follow me."

She followed her, up a flight of stairs, and soon found herself in Adrien's nursery. Nathalie looked around. She had been there before, when the boy was born. The room was set up for when Charlotte and Gabriel found themselves at the mansion for social functions and things of the like.

The matriarch set the sleeping tot in a white-wooden crib, and Nathalie was in the doorframe, staring at the ceiling. She moved out of the way of Charlotte, and followed her back down the stairs into the main foyer.

"So," Nathalie resumed, "Decorations. I heard that last year it was white and red. What would you like this year?"

 _My head on a plate, perhaps? I'd pair nicely with a finely-aged pinot, I promise._ The woman thought.

Charlotte clicked her tongue, and replied, "Jade and gold. Get the same decorator as last year. Tell her that I trust her to make a good decision."

"Alright." Nathalie made a note, and internally panicked, _who was the decorator last year? How am I supposed to know?_

It took the assistant two more questions to realize that Charlotte Agreste kept making requests in reference to things Nathalie had no way of knowing off the top of her head. It was clever, and it made her life significantly more difficult at the end of their meeting, when she retreated to her office at the Agreste headquarters.

 _Find evidence of every Christmas party the Agreste's have ever thrown._ She thought. _Easy._ Nathalie was running through file after file, in a filing cabinet behind her desk.

Gabriel stood in the doorway of his own office, and she wasn't aware of his presence until he cleared his throat in a frustrating manner.

"Yes, sir?"

"What are you doing?" He asked.

Nathalie straightened, and blinked, "I need the names of every event planner, decorator, and caterer that you've ever employed at your parties, particularly ones that your wife attended."

The man raised his eyebrows, looking slightly impressed at the entire situation. He understood immediately what his wife had done, because he had known her since they were teenagers. "I see. I can get that all to you, in spades. I'm free for the next hour, let me make a few phone calls."

Inevitably, it was easier giving Charlotte exactly what she wanted than convincing her that she would want something different.

Five minutes later, Nathalie presented Gabriel with a typed list of all the names she need. By the end of the hour, Gabriel had gotten their names, as well as photographs, newspaper clippings, and written articles about the parties in question. Nathalie got numbers, Nathalie got replacements if those numbers were no longer in service.

Two weeks later, the complicated triangle attended what would later be called 'The Best Christmas Party Ever Thrown.'

It's important to note that Nathalie, when described as a teenager, was often compared to a bird, because, well, she might as well have been. The girl had aquiline features, leftover from a German grandmother, and was incredibly tall and lithe. She had also constantly broken bones as a child, which caused classmates to spread rumors that her bones were hollow.

It was cruel, still, sometimes it worked to her advantage.

At The Best Christmas Party Ever Thrown, Nathalie found herself next to one of Gabriel's designers, a man with dark auburn hair, who had politely fetched her a glass of wine. Now, they stood by the wall in the west room of the first floor, which served as a living room.

"So," Olivier asked her, "I do have a question I've been dying to know."

Nathalie brushed away a curled strand of her hair, and smiled up at the man. "I have an answer, in this case."

The man, who was apparently was a former-model-turned-designer, grinned, "Why don't you show more skin?"

 _Damn._ "What do you mean?"

"Gabriel designed that for you, right?"

He referred to her dress. It was a formal event, so the evening gown Nathalie wore was black, floor-length, and stunning, draped and pleated and beautiful.

Nathalie nodded, "Inevitably, as his assistant, I'm not allowed to wear other designer's at his events."

Olivier swallowed, "So, every dress you've worn covers your neck and chest."

Swallowing, she answered, "Do they all? I didn't really notice."

"And your entire wardrobe at work is the same way." He told her, "Which is odd, right? You have nothing to hide, you know."

She felt Gabriel's eyes on her, but she couldn't just look away from this man now. "It's my fashion, that's all."

"Is it a tattoo?" Olivier teased her.

"It isn't a tattoo."

"Moles?"

"I don't have any moles." Nathalie answered politely, her patience wearing thin. "I just…I don't know what to tell you, maybe that's the neckline he thinks is most flattering on me?"

Gabriel had joined them. And Olivier quickly asked Gabriel why he had designed Nathalie's dresses as though she were a nun.

"I don't think you should question my design choices." He replied curtly, "Though, I will admit that my assistant has obnoxiously large clavicles, not unlike that of a bird, actually, hence why I design around them."

Nathalie nodded, agreeing, despite wanted to rip the man's head off. "Yes, hmm. Very unfortunate."

"Some men like birds, Nathalie." Olivier told her quietly.

The girl had responded without thinking, "And some women prefer men with class." She paused, her eyes widened for a moment, and then she resumed a normal, bored composure. "I'm sorry, that was out of line."

"No, no." Gabriel told her, gripping his glass of scotch, "Olivier should not reduce you a bird. It's unseemly."

"You just compared my appearance to that of a bird's, sir." Nathalie responded. The wine had made her more daring.

He smiled. And tapped his own, pointed noise, "From one bird to another, then." Gabriel clinked his glass to hers in a playful manner, and took a drink. He raised his eyebrows at her.

Nathalie rolled her eyes, and drank her wine, which elicited a smile from him. _We can't keep acting like the only two people in the room._ She turned back to the redhead designer, who looked slightly confused at the entire exchange. "How are the shoes coming along?"

Strangely enough, Gabriel and Nathalie caught themselves in a situation like this one at almost every party. They'd get wrapped into each other, discussing something, arguing, teasing, and borderline-flirting. Someone would have to pull away first, obviously. Sometimes it was Gabriel. Sometimes it was Nathalie. Sometimes it was Charlotte.

Neither of them ever wanted it to be Charlotte.

* * *

"Do you both _insist_ on doing this at every social event?" She hissed at them. This was the first time she had actually confronted them both on their behavior. Charlotte had dragged them into the kitchen, and pushed them both through a small, wooden door.

They were all in the pantry of the Agreste mansion's kitchen. Inevitably large, but not stocked. The Agreste couple had not moved back into the ancestral home, despite the redecorating Gabriel had done. There was enough room for the three of them to stand comfortably, without touching one another.

The matriarch shut the door behind them, and they both stood, staring at her quizzically.

Neither of them could pinpoint exactly what they had done wrong during this social event. It was an after party during Paris Fashion Week, and Gabriel's collection had been a clear hit. A majority of people there were businessmen, clients, and designers.

Charlotte was furious. "Adrien is seven. _Seven._ Do you realize what kind of impact you two have on him? If he were to find out about this, it would destroy him! People talk, children overhear."

The boy was currently at the Bourgeois' residence, with the newly single father, the mayor. The tiny blonde child had never witnessed anything transgress between Nathalie and her employer, however. If anything, Adrien Agreste was a bubbly reminder of their situation. Not that there was a situation to begin with.

Mainly, because nothing transgressed in the eight years they had worked together. Things were smooth, frictionless, and although neither of them forgot their pre-destined bond, it was easier to manage.

"We're both introverts, Charlotte." Gabriel told her "That's how we end up next to each other at parties. There's nothing more than that."

 _They've had this fight before,_ it dawned on her. She swallowed, and added, "Madame Agreste, I am sorry that I've caused you so much stress. It hadn't occurred to me the impact I could have on your son."

Gabriel scoffed. "Don't apologize. We've done nothing wrong." Her stark professionalism grated on his last nerves outside of work, but he rarely let that show.

"I am genuinely sorry, Charlotte." Nathalie ignored him, "If I were in a position to apologize on Monsieur Agreste's behalf, I would do that, as well."

He glared at her, and she looked at his wife, and went on, "I'll try to avoid what parties of yours that I can. I'll call in sick, I'll take vacations, I'll pretend to be busy." Nathalie pursed her lips, and sighed. "I promise to do what I can to preserve our respective reputations."

Charlotte gave her a strict nod. The woman never gave Nathalie any indication that she liked her, but Charlotte had at least grown to understand. Gabriel's wife knew that Nathalie wasn't pursuing him, and vice versa. There were still mistakes, however.

Gabriel was typically the catalyst of those mistakes. "People will talk more about you missing the parties than my behavior around you."

"That implies that people are talking about the latter already." She replied quickly.

"They _are._ " Charlotte replied, cutting the two off before they could get into a back-and-forth. "At least, they're starting too. Needless to say, next week you two better be on your best damned behavior."

Right. Next week, Charlotte and Adrien were taking their annual trip to the beach. Gabriel and Nathalie would be left to work their happy heads off, as work had always been extraordinarily busy after fashion week. It was easier for Charlotte and her son to get out of the city than for them to wait for the man to come home.

"We always are." Gabriel told her, cautiously.

That week was probably the most professional week of their years. Gabriel was painfully aware that his wife was away, and that Nathalie was there, and overcompensated with aloof, business-like behavior. Nathalie was scrambling back and forth, making, moving, and shuffling appointments around, checking e-mails as they came in by the second.

Simply put, neither of them had the time to interact with each other beyond relaying information. Nathalie had also seen to that, making sure that the man had no free time to bother her. If he had free time to spare, he wouldn't have bothered her, but it was important. Charlotte had access to his schedule, as well.

"I know." She breathed, "But it's not going to be enough. Those signatures are becoming relevant again. They're looking for people our age who have them."

Nathalie frowned, Gabriel frowned.

Charlotte's jaw dropped to the floor. "You mean neither of you know?"

The assistant actively ignored everything about soulmate signatures. It was easier pretending like they didn't exist.

Her eyes narrowed at the two of them, "They're coming back. Adrien's generation has gotten them, and there are more and more by the day. A couple universities are grasping at straws to explain it." She crossed her arms, and scowled, "The signatures started dying out at the end of World War II, and grew more and more rare as the years went on. Maybe it was a generation skip, but that kind of thing has never occurred before."

"Do you think there was a catalyst?" Gabriel studied her face.

The woman gritted her teeth, "I think that magic invites magic. I think magic has been returning to Paris for almost ten years. The theory has some weight to it."

Gabriel raised his eyebrows, and swallowed. "Of course. I'll look into it while you're away."

"Thank you." Charlotte let her shoulders relax. She glanced over to Nathalie, "I'm sure this is confusing."

"I can keep up." Nathalie answered, lying.

The woman shook her head, and left the pantry, leaving the soulmates alone.

"Let's never speak of this again." He told her, leaving her behind as well.

* * *

 _AN: I forgot to mention that the title is named after Chanel's lipstick 'Rouge Allure'_


	3. Chapter 3

Nathalie sat across from Olivier, who had long since left the Gabriel brand, and was on the rise with his own.

It didn't help that Nathalie hadn't come up with any good reasons as to why she wouldn't be dating, either. With the exception of Gabriel, and her lack of strong emotions.

He was charming enough, he was handsome enough. Still, there were logistics to work out if things made it past this point.

 _Oh? My boss is my soulmate, don't tell anyone!_

"I heard the Gabriel is developing a makeup line." He mentioned to her, picking at his food.

She smiled back at him, "Yes, he's very excited about the whole thing."

Olivier smirked, "I assume you have samples?"

"I do." Nathalie admitted. She wore a dress with a V-neck, and gabriel's concealer did actually conceal the signature well enough. Her dark hair still hung over that side of her shoulder. "They're in a locked cabinet in my bathroom, so don't get any ideas."

He laughed, genuinely, and took a sip of wine. "My brand is nowhere near a makeup line, Nathalie. Just conversation. Do you have an input on the line?"

Nathalie frowned. Her input stopped at the concealer and color corrector.

He had called her into his office, looking rather giddy. She glanced at the array of products on his desk. Concealers, foundations, blush. All of the basic essentials of cosmetics. "What is it, sir?"

Gabriel picked up a jar, concealer, and stepped over to her. The shade was almost white. He picked up another jar of yellow color corrector. "I'm starting a cosmetics line, as you know."

She glanced at her tablet, "Yes, I was about to send an intern to pick up the prototypes but it seems you have already taken care of it."

Flashing her a demon-like smile, he handed over the makeup to her. "I need you to test on the concealer and color corrector."

 _Don't sound too hopeful._ "Wouldn't you prefer me to sample the entire line?" She was dying to get her hands on the designer's upcoming cosmetics collection.

Nathalie Sancoeur enjoyed makeup. When you worked constantly, and didn't have many friends, and your apartment was fully decorated, there are few things to spend money on, and there are even fewer hobbies that one could take up.

Chuckling, his hand went to his right shoulder, "I meant on your—my—signature. This stuff is supposed to be military-grade concealer."

"There's no such thing as a military-grade concealer, sir." She told him politely. It was easier to pretend that she had no sense of humor around him. "What would you like for lunch?"

Now, she was sitting across the table from a man who had once joked about her lack of a neckline, with her chest exposed. Nathalie must've debated for the better part of an hour about the entire situation. She was terrified that Oliver would notice the makeup. Everything looked fine in her bathroom mirror, and in the hall mirror, and on the reflection of her toaster, but you could never be to careful with foundation matching.

Inevitably, she settled on the fact that since she was looking for it, she would find it. Her date didn't even know that there was something to look for, though he did playfully tease her about the extra skin.

"I don't really have an input." She shot him a smile, lying through her teeth. In her defense, Nathalie was wearing several products on her face from Gabriel's competitors anyway. "I'm definitely going to snag some stuff when the line officially launches."

* * *

"Nathalie, could you come in here for a moment?" Her intercom buzzed on, and off.

She stood up, and mentally checked off the things that made her happy, hoping that her mouth would form into a neat, little smile.

Entering his office, he was, standing with his hands behind his back.

"Yes, sir?" Her voice was chipper. Gabriel typically didn't acknowledge her much.

"Are you aware that corporate espionage is a violation of your contract, as well as a very serious crime, Ms. Sancoeur?" His anger was in the form of cold boredom.

Her eyes widened, "Sir, I don't know—"

Gabriel's irritation flared up, and his hands dropped to his sides, "Need I remind you who I am? I am an _Agreste._ My ancestors have lived in this city for centuries! There is no one in this town that I don't know, Nathalie. Did you think you could get away with selling my secrets?"

"I didn't—what?"

"Did you _honestly_ think you wouldn't be spotted having dinner with one of _my_ competitors?" His voice was low, angry, but betrayal was sprinkled throughout. "Was it worth it, Nathalie Sancoeur? Was your job, your salary, and your reputation worth whatever money that scoundrel managed to scrape up for you?"

Nathalie didn't often show emotion.

Initially, she was incredibly shocked at being accused of selling her boss's secrets. Now, she looked completely annoyed.

"Sir." She held up a hand, forcing him to stop talking. "If you wanted to ask me about _my date,_ you didn't have to go to such extreme measures." Nathalie headed for the door, and looked back at his stunned expression.

Sometimes, she let herself have a sense of humor.

 _Keep walking, you're job is safe._

"Wait—"

"Let's never speak of this again, sir." She opened the door, slammed it shut behind her, and sat at her desk.

Ten minutes later, Gabriel emerged at his office door, and Nathalie was typing away e-mails. She effectively ignored him, not looking up or acknowledging that he was even there.

The man knew when he was being brushed over.

"I would like to apologize for what just transpired." He stated mechanically. "I made an assumption that was off-base and I am horrified to think that I accused you of something I truly don't believe you're capable of."

Nathalie looked up, biting the inside of her cheek. "There's no need to apologize, sir."

Gabriel tilted his head, "Are you sure?"

She gritted her teeth, and made eye contact with his steely blue eyes, "I am very sure, sir."

He took a significant pause, and breathed out. "Fax Olivier one of our non-disclosure agreements."

Freezing in her spot, she turned to him, turning slightly in her chair. "Monsieur Agreste?" Her voice was questioning, and she blinked under several coats of mascara.

"If you're going to pursue a romantic relationship with my competitor, all the more power to you." Gabriel replied frankly. "However, we have to protect ourselves from corporate espionage, and a legal document insuring his legal demise does the trick."

"Sir—"

The man shrugged, interrupting, "Insist that his legal team drafts an NDA for you as well, give him some nonsense about mutually-assured destruction."

 _Let him have this one,_ Nathalie thought, dreading the words coming out of his mouth, "That won't be necessary, sir." She sighed, "I would've informed you if there was anything serious going on."

"Ms. Sancoeur—"

"You weren't informed, sir." The woman replied. "Please, let's never speak of this again."

Gabriel literally took a step back, and flared his nostrils, "I'm sorry."

Swallowing, she gritted her teeth. "For what? You've done nothing wrong." Nathalie glanced down to her tablet, wondering if he had some appointment that she could shuffle him along too.

He sucked in a breath, "I'm sure one day you'll find someone who you can trust with our secret."

The phone on her desk started to ring.

 _Thank god, thank god, thank god._

"Gabriel Agreste's office." Her voice was smooth, and unattached. "Yes, Madame Agreste, he is in his office…I will call the driver immediately and send him your way—Peonies or roses, Madame? Of course."

She ended the call, and dialed the extension to Gabriel's driver.

"Ms. Sancoeur—"

Nathalie held up a finger. "George, I need you to bring the car up front for Monsieur Agreste. You will drive him to Adrien's piano recital. Afterwards, you'll pick up flowers for Madame Agreste and deliver them to the condo, and Madame Agreste will be able to handle it from there."

Ending the call, she dialed the flower shop the Agreste's used exclusively. After almost ten years, she knew the number by heart and muscle memory.

"Nathalie—" His irritation cut through her like a serrated knife.

Her finger was still held up, but she held it up slightly higher. "Monsieur Jonquille, it's Nathalie Sancoeur." She paused, allowing the man to make a joke, and allowing herself to give him fake laughter. "Yes, of course. Madame Agreste would like four bouquets of peonies to be ready in a half hour…Of course, I'll have George pick them up. Thank you."

She hung up, and allowed herself to look at him. His mouth was clamped shut.

"You're going to be late for your son's piano recital, Monsieur Agreste. George is waiting outside." Nathalie smirked at him, "After that, you have a meeting across town with Mayor Bourgeois. Campaign financial business. Do you need me at that meeting?"

He shook his head, smiling slightly, "It won't be necessary. Do call me a half hour after the meeting starts, however. Come up with a good excuse to get me out of there."

"Have a good day, sir." Nathalie returned the smile.

Things were back to normal, for now.

* * *

The first time Nathalie was forced to interact with Adrien Agreste, was the one day in eleven years where Gabriel called out sick. She didn't believe for a second that her boss was sick. There was a huge blowout release party for Dolce & Gabbana that he had attended the night before, and fashion designers often through wild after parties.

 _He's probably deadly hungover._ She thought passively, ringing the doorbell, clutching a small envelope of papers he had requested for her to courier across town.

Adrien answered the door to the townhouse, and looked up at her. "Ms. Nathalie, come in."

She stepped inside of the home, and was immediately hit by Charlotte's French cottage style of decorating. Intruding upon the woman's home felt so wrong.

Charlotte was in China, away for two weeks on a trip that her boss had not delved much into beyond ' _Two-way plane ticket. Hotel arrangements. Rented car. That's all, Nathalie.'_

The woman clucked her tongue and glanced down to the boy, who's hands were clasped behind his back, politely. He wore a designer sweatshirt, jeans, and black socks. His hair was unruly, and he looked so much like his mother that it was practically illegal.

"Where is your father?" She asked eventually. "I have important documents for him."

"Upstairs. Third door on the right." Adrien responded. "Shoes."

"Shoes?" Her eyebrows furrowed, and they still stood in the landing of the townhouse.

He gave her a wide smile, "My mother doesn't allow shoes inside the house. I have to get back to studying, so I'm going to leave you. Have a good day, Ms. Nathalie."

 _This must drive Gabriel Agreste insane,_ she thought, slipping off her heels, and turning immediately to head up the dark, wooden stairs.

Adrien looked back over his shoulder at her, looking genuinely confused. "Doesn't she know that she said that aloud?" He murmured to himself, before going back to the couch to resume his Chinese homework.

She knocked on the white door, and heard him tell her to enter.

He shared his office with Charlotte, and it was clear to tell who occupied which side. Although all of the desk furniture matched, Gabriel's side was stark clean, the only thing on his desk was a desktop monitor, keyboard, and mouse. Hanging above his desk was a family portrait.

Charlotte's side was a desk, covered in books and loose documents, clouded around a very high tech monitor and computer server. Behind the desk was a corkboard, covered in maps, photocopies of pages, post-it notes, and thumbtacks. There was a dry-erase board to the side, covered in even more notes, but covered partially under a bedsheet.

It was chaos.

It was Nathalie Sancouer's nightmare fuel.

 _This must drive him insane,_ she thought, bewildered at the sudden knowledge that Charlotte Agreste was definitely more than what she showed to the world.

"I know you didn't intend to say that out loud." Gabriel said, in a slightly nasal voice.

So, he really was sick. His eyes were red and wet, his nose a shade of scarlet. Nathalie practically recoiled, hoping that she wouldn't get sick. She handed him the manila envelope, containing several sketches, drafts of contracts, and schedules.

"Was there anything else?"

He frowned, "I need some cold medicine. Could you go to a pharmacy and get some?"

"I—what? Don't you have cold medicine?" Nathalie asked him.

Grimacing, he stood, and walked over to Charlotte's side of the office. "My wife believes in more…homeopathic remedies. I think she thinks that green tea could cure cancer. Thus, I have no actual medicine in this house."

Nathalie furrowed her eyebrows, and glanced at the woman's desk once more before Gabriel gestured her out of the room.

She headed down the stairs, with her boss at her heels. Adrien looked up from the couch. "Dad, Mom said that you should be in bed, resting."

Gabriel walked over to his son, and tussled the boy's hair as he passed, "I'm fine, Adrien. Nathalie's going to pick up some cold medicine, then I'll go take a nap."

His assistant knew it was a bold-faced lie. The man may not be in the office, but he did have several conference calls to do. She smiled slightly, and nodded to the boy, who looked at her with genuine curiosity, with a face that could only say—

 _'Is my dad lying to me?'_

The man handed her a couple euros, despite the fact that she did have his credit cards. "Charlotte will see the charge." He murmured, opening the front door. "This stays between us."

"What about Adrien?" Nathalie replied, "Loose ends, Gabriel."

"Sweets. Pick him up something sweet." He replied, closing the door behind her.

This is how she ended up at an apothecary, and at a bakery ran by a small Chinese woman and a robust Frenchman. It was a fruitful mission. Gabriel took the cold medicine eagerly, and Adrien accepted the eclairs politely.

Gabriel sat at the counter of the kitchen, as he was partially drunk from the obnoxious amount of cold medicine he put until his system. For a man who was large-and-in-charge, he was wiry, with lean muscles. She already knew that he was a lightweight drinker, so she should've realized that giving him so much of that grape-flavored liquid was a mistake.

"I'll put your father to bed, Adrien." She told the boy, while handing him a crisp, black business card. "I'm not sure if you have my number. If you need anything, just call and it will be handled."

The boy nodded, taking the card before resuming his schoolwork.

"I'm not tired, Nathalie." God, his words were practically slurred. It all hit him pretty quickly.

Nathalie was unamused, "Monsieur Agreste."

Even in his drunken state, he still managed to glare at her, his eyelids slightly drooped, "Gaaaaabriel. We are not at work, Nathalie."

"Then I'll be frank, _Gabriel._ " She replied, "If you don't get to bed in the next minute, I will let Madame Agreste know that I bought you cold medicine."

Lifting himself up, he haggardly made his way to the stairs, pouting as he went. "I'll have you know that I am not afraid of you."

"Of course, sir." She told him absentmindedly, pulling out her tablet to glance over several e-mails.

She heard the thump of a man who quite literally fell into bed, and she noticed that Adrien Agreste was staring at her.

"How did you do that?" He asked her, clearly confused. "He listens to you."

Nathalie was slightly frozen.

 _He doesn't know._ She realized. _He doesn't have any power over you._ After all, in the past eleven years, the only people who knew about the soulmate signature were her, Charlotte Agreste, and Gabriel Agreste. There would never be a reason to break the boy's heart by letting him know that his parents didn't have the fairytale marriage the public thought they had. All three of them would take the secrets to their graves, or their urns, because cremation would be the only true way to hide the truth.

"Do what?" She recovered. "I'm just doing my job."


	4. Chapter 4

"Oh my god!" She bemoaned, realization dawned on her.

His concern was immediate, "What's wrong?"

"My mascara isn't waterproof." She stated, "So I'm going to die with runny eye makeup."

* * *

"Are you sure we're heading in the right direction?" Charlotte's question was pointed at Nathalie, who sat in the passenger seat, next to their driver. A new driver, but honestly, taking a plane to a photoshoot location forty-five minutes outside of Paris was wasteful.

Nathalie looked up from her tablet, the dirt road wasn't ideal, of course, but there was some insistence that this would be the fastest route. She recognized the backroads, _she preferred backroads,_ but they were what they were: backroads with no other cars, dirt roads and fields.

"We'll be there soon." Gabriel assured his wife.

"Perhaps it'd be best to get back on the highway." Nathalie told the driver, "Take a left here, and then—"

The driver missed the left, and shot her an apologetic, sheepish smile. "Sorry, I'll get the next one?"

"Just turn around." She insisted. "There's no other cars here."

Still, mental alarm bells were going off.

The driver ignored her, and sped up. "We'll take the route we decided on. It'll take more time to get to the shoot if we deviate."

Nathalie bit the inside of her cheek. "Alright."

Of course, ten minutes later, the entire situation was forgotten, until Nathalie looked up from her tablet, and realized that there were slowing down. In front of them, two large, black cars were blocking the road.

She looked over at the driver. "Care to explain?"

"I don't know, Sancoeur." He replied, his gaze shifting to the rearview mirror. "Maybe it's care trouble."

The assistant didn't have to look over her shoulder to know that Gabriel was giving him a scathing glare.

"Gabriel, you don't think…" Charlotte's voice took on a tone that Nathalie had never heard. The woman's voice shook slightly, her voice was low. For the first time since she knew Madame Agreste, she was terrified.

"It'll be fine." He assured her.

When they pulled to a stop behind the cars, Nathalie took the lead and told their driver to check it out. "See if they'll move."

The driver, a spry young man with red-orange hair and light blue eyes, smiled, and hopped out of the car.

Gabriel frowned, glaring at his phone, "Does anyone have cell-service?"

"We should." Nathalie stared at her tablet, frustrated to no end.

Charlotte unbuckled her seatbelt. "It might be a jammer."

The man nodded, "There's no where to go, however."

A gunshot rang through the air, and their driver was on the ground, in a pool of blood. Three men were outside the two cars. Nathalie let out a small yelp, and the two celebrities behind her were oddly quiet.

"Everyone out of the car!"

Nathalie opened the car door without hesitation, while the Agreste's both dawdled. Her hands were in the air, and she heard the car doors open behind her.

"Who are you?" The gun was so close she could smell the gunpowder.

She narrowed her eyes, "Nathalie Sancoeur."

Charlotte frowned, "She has nothing to do with this."

The man gave the woman a short, flirtatious smile, and cocked the gun, "Then she's just another extraneous variable."

"No!" Gabriel sighed, "What do you want?"

"Everyone on your knees." He ordered, "Come on, Agreste's. In a line."

Nathalie exhaled, and obeyed. Gabriel fell to his knees next to her. Charlotte stood, crossing her arms, staring down the man.

He smirked, and stepped towards the blonde, who's fists were balled at her sides, shaking with anger. He placed a hand on her chin, examining her face with cold distaste.

Gabriel let out a growl, "Get your hands off my wife."

"Oh?" The man let out a huff, and smirked, "Did you think you were her first husband?"

Nathalie glanced over to her boss, who paled.

Charlotte stepped back, "Don't."

"Did you think you were the first one she put her spell on?" The man laughed, "Her and the Guardian have been doing this since she could walk."

"That was a long time ago." She told him.

"So what? You marry me, steal my research out from under my nose, and then marry this jackass to fly you to all the places I planned on travelling to?" The man scoffed.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, "For a scorned lover, this is pretty extreme."

The gun pointed to Gabriel's forehead, "First of all, Charlotte, Amelia, _whatever_ your name is, if you don't get on the ground, he's going to get shot. Secondly, Gabriel Agreste, give me the watch."

"I don't know—"

"He knows about the watch." Charlotte cut her husband off.

He smirked down at the man, who was fumbling in his coat pocket. "Kind of ironic that the man you married had the artifact that I've been searching for decades."

Gabriel turned the watch over in his hands. The man held out his hand. Nathalie's eyes widened.

 _Don't do it._

He threw the watch against the windshield of the suburban, cracking the glass.

The man smiled, "Your family may have had the watch for centuries, but my family made the watches, made the boxes that hold the miraculous. Do you think I can't fix what you may have brokne?"

"You have your watch, then." The man spat black, "Let us go."

He turned for a moment and retrieved the watch off the top of the car. "One. You didn't break the watch, so you've hardly delayed the inevitable."

Charlotte snarled, "Then let us go. We don't have the Peacock miraculous with us, we have nothing more to give you."

"Two," The man sparkled, "Did you think I'd leave the only woman on this hemisphere that can translate the watch's directions?"

His gaze fell to Charlotte.

"I hope you retained all of my research and the Guardian's training. You're going to need it."

"You can't do this." Gabriel told him, "I'll find you."

"I'll send her back to you when I'm done with her." He replied impassively. Turning to one of his lackeys, he barked several orders.

Nathalie was inhaling deeply, things went by in a blur.

"Charlotte, get in the sedan."

"Charlotte—"

"Take care of Adrien, I'll be back as soon as I can. Protect the Peacock miraculous. I love you."

"I'll never help you."

"I'm not going to ask again, get in the damned car."

"Tie those two up."

"Torch the suburban, make sure they don't have cellphones."

"You'll regret this."

"I'm not afraid of you, your money, or you power. Pretty soon, you'll fear me."

She looked up, and realized that they were alone, tied up back-to-back on the side of a road. Nathalie swallowed, listening as the car drove away.

Gabriel inhaled, his back pressed into hers, "We'll be fine."

"The sun is setting. We're going to die." She replied.

"A car will come by soon." He insisted, "My employees will notice our absence."

Nathalie slumped forward, lamenting that her legs were tied together. "I don't understand."

He chuckled, "It's alright. Just sleep."

"How can I sleep?" She demanded, "You're not exactly comfortable to sleep next to."

* * *

A car eventually came. Gabriel had spotted it, and told Nathalie to go along with whatever he said. It was a police officer, who had spotted the smoke from the burning car, and decided to investigate.

She did what he had asked, going into auto-pilot mode as she answered questions. An ambulance arrived. Since they were tied up on the side of the road for roughly six hours, they were both whisked away to the closest emergency room, to be treated for dehydration and mild sun poisoning.

Nathalie stood in the lobby, and looked up at Gabriel. They were both still covered in dust and dirt. He was frozen solid in demeanor.

"I'll explain to Adrien when we get home." He told her, "I'm going to tell him what I told the police, and you're going to repeat that story, should he ask you about it."

"Alright." She agreed, "There's a rental out front waiting for us. Is there anything else?"

Gabriel frowned, "For now, no."

He drove, and she sat in the passenger seat, mitigating e-mails, cancelling the photoshoots, hiring investigators, and alerting the company's public relations department.

"Contact my real-estate agent." He broke the silence. "I want the townhouse sold by this weekend. When we get to the house, I'm going to have Adrien pack his things. Have the mansion prepared for our arrival."

She sucked in a breath, despite not being surprised. The move was very 'Gabriel', because it was 'Charlotte' who wanted to live in the townhouse. It was no secret that he had been arguing for them to move out since they had moved in.

Nathalie swallowed, and started making the arrangements. Her boss pulled over into a small historical park, and she stepped out, content on making phone calls and ignoring the situation. Gabriel rolled up his sleeves, and stretched his legs.

One hand on her phone to her ear, the other was crossed around her body.

Then she remembered she had to hire a new bodyguard.

That phone call started at the HR department of the company, and then to the head of security, and then Nathalie had to explain and she clammed up.

Her phone slipped out of her hands as she bit back a choked sob.

Gabriel was at her side, and he knelt down, and picked up the phone, "This is Gabriel Agreste. Have your man report to the Agreste Mansion, HR should have the security codes for him. Thank you." He hung up.

She turned away from him. Thankfully, the hospital allowed her to wash the makeup off her face, so no mascara ran down her cheeks as she breathed out.

"Nathalie." A hand was on her shoulder, his spidery hand against the cloth of her blouse.

Immediately stepping out of his reach, she turned, and felt her façade return. She absentmindedly wiped a tear off her face, "Today has been particularly traumatic. I'll do my work to the best of my ability."

He stiffened, despite his disheveled appearance, "Make all the arrangements you need to make. I'll be in the car." Gabriel handed her the cellphone back to her, careful not to make physical contact.

Twenty minutes later, she climbed into the passenger seat, and Gabriel drove off. They returned to Paris, one Agreste short.

Adrien knew something was amiss when Nathalie entered the townhouse. She was weirdly silent as Gabriel politely explained what had happened. Her eyes were averted, fixated on the one of the weekly bouquets of flowers.

This week it was peonies.


	5. Chapter 5

Nathalie leaned against the soapy bubble, and glared at her boss, "Please stop squirming, sir, it's small enough in here without you desperately trying not to touch me."

He glared at her, "I'm trying to be polite."

"We should save our energy and our oxygen." She replied, ignoring that they were curled into a small bubble together, floating up towards the stratosphere.

They sat side-by-side, her right shoulder touching his left, their knees touching each other. It was incredibly awkward, but they were stuck together in a perfectly round sphere.

"This soap is slightly porous." He replied, prodding the bubble, "Oxygen will pass through. I suppose it'll be an issue when the oxygen gets too thin. E-mail the VPs, let them know we're going to be unavailable for the afternoon."

She frowned, "I dropped my tablet when the akuma attacked, sir. Even if I did have my tablet, we wouldn't get reception at this altitude."

Gabriel swallowed, "Well, I'm sorry that you keep getting into life-or-death-situations because of me."

"It's alright, sir." She replied, glancing away. _You are a grown woman, you do not blush._

"If Charlotte were here, she would tell me that it's my own damn fault." He added, "I should've let him have the birthday party."

Nathalie smirked, "If Charlotte were here, she'd tell us that we're sitting too close together."

The man chuckled, and shifted his left arm, lifting it above his head, forcing her body to fall closer to his as he wrapped his arm around her. "It could always be worse." He replied coolly.

She looked down on the shrinking city of Paris. "This is all your fault, Gabriel."

"I wasn't unreasonable." He replied, "And it was _you_ who convinced me to put him in public school, which lead him to a Nino Lahiffe, who is no-doubt the akuma."

Pulling away from him, she stared into his eyes, "You're shaking."

He stiffened up, "The thought of one of Hawkmoth's _minions_ being that close to my son fills me dread. This exactly why I didn't want him in school."

"That monster knew enough about the two of you." Nathalie told him, repeated to him what she had told him months ago, "He already knows about Adrien."

"It's not worth the risk." Gabriel snapped back, "Hawkmoth could try to reach him."

Nathalie leaned against his chest, and took in a deep breath, "He already has what he wants."

He scowled, "They were _married,_ Nathalie, right under my nose. If she's still alive, she's going to—I mean, I'm not sure if she really loved me, obviously, but she clearly loved our son. Charlotte would want him in her life."

"She loved you." She replied.

Shrugging, his mouth formed a thin line, "She used me for money, and used him for information. Who knows?"

"I'm not going to stroke your ego, sir."

"Okay, soulmate."

"Shut up."

"Did you just tell me to shut up?" He faked incredulity, "I am your boss."

Nathalie chuckled. "If you're going to pull the soulmate card, formality goes out the window, _sir._ "

He took in a breath, "The oxygen is decreasing, Nathalie. If we—"

"I know." She replied.

Gabriel sighed, "I know that I changed my will so that you would be Adrien's guardian if I were to die."

She shut her eyes, "Ladybug and Chat Noir will undo the damages." Nathalie's arm curled around his chest, crinkling his clothing, "Please, Gabriel. It's cold and I'm tired."

His chest rose slightly as she curled into him, shivering as Paris was now a distant speck below them. "If we survive this, let's never speak of it again."

"And if we don't?"

"Then die knowing that I truly do care about you," Gabriel murmured, "despite all of my coldness, I do harbor feelings when I think about you, Nathalie."

He kissed her forehead, and took a deep breath, and allowed his eyes to shut.

"I care about you too, Gabriel."

* * *

Gabriel was the first one to rouse, immediately rising and looking around him. Nathalie sunk further into him, murmuring something incoherent.

They were descending back to Earth.

He shook Nathalie gently, "Wake up."

She sprung up, startled, and straightened her vest. Her fingers went through her hair, fixing her bun. "We're alive."

"Yes." The man stated, glancing at his watch, "We should reach Paris in five minutes."

He watched her expression change, and when her face shifted to one of scrutiny, Gabriel knew that she remembered their short discussion.

They would never speak of it again.

* * *

When the term had ended, and a year had passed, Gabriel was sitting in his home office answering e-mails, while Nathalie was gathering sketches, archiving them in sheets of plastic.

Someone knocked at the door. She turned to Gabriel, who checked the camera feed, "Come in, Adrien."

He opened the door, and stared at the two of them. "Ah, good, you're both here."

Gabriel stood, his hands clasped behind his back, Nathalie continued working, because she wasn't his parent.

"Was there something you needed?" He asked his son, his tone business-like and detached.

"A request, Father." He replied. "If you're not busy, of course."

The man raised his eyebrows, and glanced down at his monitor, "I am busy, sadly."

Adrien frowned, his eyes slightly illuminated, "Oh. Alright. Your schedule said that this was your lunch break. Maybe I don't know the definition of the word 'break', Father."

The old man took pause, and Nathalie knew he was waiting for her to come up with some excuse. She straightened up slightly, and turned towards Adrien, her hands folded in front of her.

"Alright, fair enough. What is it, Adrien?"

He grinned, "If you'll recall, Mom and I took a vacation to the beach every year, and I haven't been since."

 _Oh no._

"I'm aware, Adrien." Gabriel replied, "Is this the part where you ask to go to the beach with your friends?"

"No, Father." He replied, "I was thinking that Nathalie and I could take a vacation."

One of his eyebrows raised, and he grinned, "Nathalie?"

"We both work very hard for you, Father." Adrien explained, "And if you won't let me go with my friends, you can at least give your assistant a break."

Gabriel inhaled, "We'll discuss it."

"When will I know your answer?"

"By dinner." He answered, "You are excused."

"Thank you, father."

When the door shut, Gabriel sat down in his swivel chair. She kept her distance, standing over a nearby table, where she was organizing the sketches by color and collection.

"Say something." The man told her, flatly.

Nathalie turned towards him, "What would you like me to say?"

"I know you're going to attempt to convince me to let you two go." Gabriel replied, glancing at the portrait of his wife hanging behind him.

She said nothing, pressing her lips together.

His eyebrows raised, "Come on, tell me all about the martial arts classes you've been taking."

Letting out a breath, she shook her head.

Gabriel frowned, and looked down, "Can you honestly handle a road trip? After what happened?"

Her bright eyes flashed to him, but she buried her anger. "You asked me to watch over your son, because I was the only one you could trust after that day. Do you not trust me now?"

"There will be a paper trail." He answered, "Renting a beach house? Hawkmoth will find you both. Charlotte will find you both."

Nathalie leaned back, and pinched the bridge of her nose, "We can't be sure if she's alive or not, sir. As for the beach house, you should know that I _have_ a beach house. My parents passed away three months before I met you, and left our family home to me, their only daughter. It's in a small town on the west coast."

He took a step towards her, "So Hawkmoth, or anyone for that matter, wouldn't know about your departure, should you go?"

She groaned, "Could you handle yourself, if I'm gone for a week or two?"

"I could. Could you take Gorilla?" His voice had softened.

"My parents," She rolled her eyes, "Bought this large house, in hopes of filling it with children, but only ended up with me. There are four bedrooms."

Gabriel nodded, "It'll be a nice summer trip. Find two weeks in his schedule and clear them."

"I'll let him know, sir." Nathalie relaxed, and moved to leave, "For what it's worth, it's a good sign if he's returning to the traditions he and his mother kept. He's doing better."

"I know. Thank you, Nathalie."

She opened the door and closed it behind him, and found Adrien waiting at the bottom of the stairs. She smiled, and nodded to him.

* * *

Nathalie's hands gripped the steering wheel, driving at a reasonable speed, when her phone rang. It was well after dinner. Thankfully, her phone wasn't calibrated to her sedan. She answered.

"Yes, Monsieur Agreste?" Her voice was cool, relaxed.

After all, if something was wrong, she was supposed to answer the phone and use his first name.

Gabriel let out a sigh, "I just wanted to—"

He could hear her smile through the phone, "I know, sir." she told him, eyeing Adrien, who sat in the passenger seat. She glanced to the rearview mirror, where Gorilla's car was trailing her. "Everything's fine."

"Alright." He hung up.

"Thank you," Adrien told her, leaning back into his seat, "I don't know what you told him, but thank you."

She nodded, "It's not a problem, we all deserve a vacation."

Swallowing, he chuckled nervously, "Well I—uh, know that the last time you went on a roadtrip, a lot of crazy stuff went down."

Nathalie nodded, "Accurate."

Adrien looked at her, making out her profile, her mouth that was formed into a neutral line, and cleared his throat.

 _Blurt something out, kid, I dare you._

"Why did my mom hate you so much?"

That was unexpected.

Nathalie went to the first emotion that came to her. Confidence. If you asked her why she felt so confident at this moment, she would have nervously laughed and blushed, but for now, she was just confident. "I wasn't aware that your mother hated me." She lied.

He looked away, biting his lip. She watched him search for proof that Nathalie knew. "My father asked my mom to be nicer around you, once or twice. Which would imply that she was so rude in your company that _my father, Gabriel Agreste,_ noticed and asked her to stop."

She frowned, and mused over her words, "I think she thought I would pursue her husband."

"What?" Adrien was in a state of disbelief, "Why? I mean—uh—no offense to you Nathalie, _obviously_ , but my father loved my mom whole-heartedly."

The woman shrugged, unoffended by the comment, and answered, "It's happened before. Bosses pursue their assistants. She was wrong to think that Gabriel would ever do that."

Well, that was partially true. In the fifteen or so years they had worked together, Nathalie could describe their relationship with each other in one sentence. Professional, with occasional lapses of emotional support and feelings.

Of course, she would never relay that sentence Adrien.

Speaking of, the boy took in a breath, "Does he date?"

"What?"

"I mean—" He started.

"Adrien, he's—" Nathalie told him at the same time.

They both were silent.

"I don't know." She finally answered. "If he was, I doubt he'd tell anyone about it."

When the awkward car ride was over, Nathalie was turning the car into her family home. Thankfully, a well-paid property manager had cleared away the weeds and dustaround the property, so that the house could be rented out for well-meaning tourists. Nathalie had picked out new furniture for the house every five years, keeping her parent's style in mind at all times.

The property manager had left up the family pictures at least. She ushered the two of them in. Adrien and Gorilla passed the threshold, clearly in awe.

"You grew up _here_?" Adrien glanced around to the living room, which led into the kitchen (thankfully stocked).

"I did." She told them. "You can pick your bedrooms, please."

She followed them both upstairs, while Gorilla took the burden of their luggage. The bedroom doors and windows on the second floor were left open, allowing salt air to waft through. The scent had always filled Nathalie with serenity.

At the top of the stairs were four bedrooms. Two bedrooms faced west, the beach, with a connecting balconies and private doors that lead out to them. The other two bedrooms, which faced the front yard, had doors that connected to the balcony, as the entire structure wrapped around all sides of the house, except the front.

Nathalie took her parent's room, on the southwest side of the house, Adrien took her old bedroom, the northwest, and Gorilla took the northeast.

They all said their goodnights to each other, well, Adrien and Nathalie did. Gorilla just nodded and offered them a soft smile.

Setting her bag down, she glanced to the dresser, across from the bed. Her parent's photos were still on the wall, the wedding pictures, the several pictures of Nathalie and them together. Vacations, museums, graduation.

Swallowing what despair she still harbored over her parent's deaths, she pulled her phone out of her purse and dialed her boss's number.

"Nathalie." He breathed out, "Everything good?"

"Yes, Monsieur Agreste." She told him, "We arrived, and we're all retiring for tonight. Follow your schedule tomorrow. I'll have Adrien call you during your lunch break."

He chuckled, "Goodnight, Nathalie."

"Goodnight, sir."

* * *

Two days had passed uneventfully. It was around eight in the morning when Nathalie rose out of bed. Peeling off her nightgown, she pulled her swimsuit out, a sensible bikini. Her fingers fell to the ever-so-slight abdominal muscles, admiring the view in the mirror, before leaving her glasses on the bathroom counter.

All of that combat training had paid off a little bit. Nathalie ignored Gabriel's signature, pulled on an old t-shirt, grabbed a beach towel, and headed downstairs with her house keys.

The small shed, secluded in several bushes, proved easy to open. She passed her old bicycles, and chose her old surfboard, and the small jar of wax next to her old trophies.

A waxing session later, Nathalie tied her hair up into a loose bun and headed into the water. Her towel and t-shirt were on the beach, along with her eyeglasses, phone.

There was something relaxing about the saltwater washing up her entire body. She walked across the breaking waves, hoping to get past the break line quickly.

It was calm, surfing again. She felt as though she were flying, as her feet gripped the board.

In fact, Nathalie was so in her own element that she didn't notice her boss standing at the edge of the water, watching her with a soft expression.

At least, it might've been soft. She really had terrible eyesight.

She came out of the water, looking like a vision in a black bikini. Gabriel couldn't help but stare as she stuck her surfboard in the sand, and grabbed her towel. He had unbuttoned his dress shirt, and cuffed his trousers. His feet were bare, the oxfords he wore abandoned on the back porch by the door.

Nathalie squinted at him, wringing out her hair, "Did you miss me, Gabriel?"

Sauntering towards him, she let a knowing smile cross her face. Her fingers unbuttoned another button on his shirt, revealing his tank top underneath, as well as the soulmate mark she had never seen before. The man said nothing as she examined the soulmate mark.

"Wow."

He rolled his eyes, and his hands fell naturally to the top of her hips, his soft hands melting into her skin. Gabriel Agreste: mesmerized. "What is it?" He replied, letting her fingers trace over the soulmate mark.

"I mean—I know I have your signature, and I've seen your handwriting, and your calligraphy. It's beautiful." Nathalie explained, "I have to put in legitimate effort for my writing to even appear legible."

"So?" He raised an eyebrow at her, amused.

"I mean, my signature in red makes it look like a cat mauled you." Nathalie chuckled.

Gabriel smiled, and glanced down to her lips. "I don't mind cat scratches too much."

She leaned her face up towards him, stepping closer, daring him to make the first move. Her hands were on his shirt collar, and the water lapping their feet felt colder.

"Is that so?"

"May I kiss you?"

Nathalie frowned, "You're telling me, a pretty woman walks up to you, _dripping wet,_ puts her hands on your neck and you have to ask her if you can kiss her?"

He took a sharp intake of breath. "Can you blame me? Charlotte was—"

She pulled away from him, and he recoiled, his eyes wide. "You don't have to mention Charlotte Agreste, you know."

Mood killer.

"I keep forgetting that you don't know." He replied cryptically. "Charlotte was the Peacock miraculous user. It came with interesting abilities, the power of attraction made things…complicated."

"What?" Nathalie whirled back at him. _This can't be happening._

His expression was pained, "It wasn't like I was forced to love her, but for a long time, the only woman I could see was her. I was crazy about her and it was artificial. She harbored feelings for me as well and she stopped using her magic on me after a time. I grew to love her truly but you have to understand—"

Gabriel's eyes flashed towards the horizon over the Atlantic.

"I see." She stated, "When we first got our soulmate marks, was she still using her powers?"

"The powers were always in effect in general." He replied automatically. "Everyone liked her, everyone was drawn to her, but she used her powers to target me especially. She stopped around that time, but I can't pinpoint when. We didn't discuss it much."

Nathalie scowled, "Of course you didn't."

He rolled his eyes, "Charlotte claimed that because she liked me so much, the miraculous just automatically targeted me without her control. I bought into it until a couple months ago. I found a book on miraculous, and I used her notes to translate the passages about her miraculous."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Gabriel told her, "This whole soulmate thing is her fault. Miraculous magic attracts other magic. The miraculous used during World War II caused our parents to get soulmate marks, then when miraculous weren't being used it skipped most of our generation, except for the humans close to the miraculous."

Nathalie's lips formed an ironic smile, "So, her use of magic led you to me?"

His smile was slightly boyish. "Yes."

* * *

"So this is where you grew up?" He called to her.

She frowned, "Do you insist on scrutinizing my family photos?"

They were the only ones awake for the moment. Adrien and Gorilla were happily sleeping in.

He shrugged, "You were a cute kid. You broke a lot of bones though."

"Ah yes—"

"Were your bones hollow?" He teased, "I know the bird jokes get to you, but really, how'd you break so many bones? Every family picture."

Nathalie prodded his side, "Wrong place, wrong time. I liked surfing, and I tried a whole ton of sports along with that, which lead to injuries."

Gabriel had a spark in his eyes, "That must've been nice. You make it sound like you were a free spirit."

"I was." She admitted, glanced at a picture of her at a summer festival in a bandeau, jean jacket, and leather pants. Now, without the soulmate mark in the picture, it just seemed wrong.

"What changed?"

Freezing slightly, she answered, "My parents passed away right after I graduated Lycee, so I had to grow up a bit earlier than I expected to."

His lips pursed, "That must've been difficult."

"It…was." She finally said.

* * *

Some half hour later, Nathalie sat at the counter, showered dressed for the day, sipping a mimosa that Gabriel had attempted to make. The man had apparently moonlighted as a bartender when he was in school.

It was a pretty decent mimosa.

"This drink doesn't mean your qualified to make breakfast." She told him.

Gabriel pointed the spoon at her, the stove between the two of them, "It does."

"What are you making?"

"Jam for the bread." He told her, stirring the stainless-steel pot. "You have blackberry bushes on the property. I figured I'd make enough for the four of us."

"How does bartending translate into making jam?"

He raised an eyebrow at her, "We had breakfast after we close everything down. I made the jam? It's the only thing I can cook."

The man pointed to the windowsill, where there were several artistic mason jars. "Clean one of those out." Gabriel told her, "Sterilize it, we'll need something to put this all in."

She rolled her eyes, but stood and complied, her fingers brushing the small of his back as she passed.

"Father?"

"Adrien, good morning."

Nathalie froze slightly. She glanced over to Gabriel, and relaxed when she realized that his dress shirt was buttoned, covering the soulmate mark.

"Don't you have a company to run?"

Gabriel chuckled, "Not at the moment."

* * *

Inevitably, they ran out of jam between the four of them. Adrien. Gabriel Agreste could start a jam company if he wanted, as it was used at every meal.

The next morning, after Nathalie's morning surf session, Gabriel and Nathalie were at the property line, picking blackberries.

"Nathalie? Nathalie Sancoeur?" The voice was high pitched, and belonged to her neighbor. An American.

"Mrs. Williams, always a pleasure." She returned, in near-perfect english.

The corners around her eyes crinkled as she smiled, "How _are_ you? This must be your husband!"

"Gabriel." He greeted the old woman politely, and delivered in shaky english, "I'm sorry, I do not speak English."

"Elizabeth Williams, and it's not a problem, we are in France, after all." The woman assured him in French, before shooting Nathalie a sneaky glance and switching back to English, "He's a handsome guy, Nat, well done."

Nathalie frowned, she could've sworn he spoke English, but there was no fighting him on it now. "I'm afraid he's not—"

"And those cheekbones! Christ, Nathalie, please tell me you have children with this man." She told him.

Defeated, the woman could only smile in return and say quickly, "I'm afraid we're both a bit too old for children. I'm sure I could convince him to get a golden retriever. We'll see. I'm afraid we have to go however. He's making breakfast. Have a lovely day, Mrs. Williams."

"It was lovely to see you both." She told them, finally switching back to French. "You have a great girl with you, Gabriel, even if her english is shaky."

* * *

Later that night, Gabriel knocked on her bedroom door, well past midnight.

"You know," He told her, "If we're on vacation, in your house, formality really goes out the door."

She stared at him, his plain white t-shirt, his striped-pajama bottoms, and replied, "You're an HR disaster waiting to happen."

He smirked, his expression illuminated by the glow of her nightstand lamp. "If I told you that your house was haunted, would you let me sleep in here?"

Nathalie rolled her eyes, and gestured the idiot inside.

"By the way." He murmured, curling around her, "If I ever got a dog, it would be a Jack Russel terrier. Golden retrievers don't make for good accessories."

"I hate you."

"No you don't. Goodnight, Nathalie."


	6. Chapter 6

The magic washed over his assistant. Instead of a scarf-themed akuma, a frazzled Nathalie remained. Her hair was undone, the black and red locks scrambled across her skull. Her blue eyes were hollow, and she collapsed on the marble floor.

Chat Noir was closest, and was moving towards the unconscious woman, when Gabriel crossed the room. "Stay away from her." He growled.

Well, he didn't mean to come off that protective, but watching his soulmate get assaulted for the better part of two hours wasn't easy.

The boy recoiled. Gabriel wasn't a pretty sight, either. His hair was unkempt, his suit sooty and wrinkled, and he had been outrunning Scarface for twenty minutes before the two heroes showed up and saved the day.

Turning to face the befallen woman, he knelt down, and lightly shook her shoulder, "Nathalie."

Her eyes sprung open, and her pupils dilated as she realized what she had done. "Gabriel." She flung her arms around him, burying her face into his shoulder, "I'm so sorry."

His arms were around her form, and he picked her up, bridal style, "It's fine, Nathalie. Just rest."

Ladybug and Chat Noir were dumbfounded. They had witnessed the man running around the mansion for his dear life, at the hands of this woman. Now, he was protecting her from the children. "Uh, Monsieur Agreste?"

"Everything's—" Nathalie fell asleep in his arms, one of her hand curled against his chest, scratching the fabric slightly and stopping the man in his tracks, "—fine. Everything's fine. Thank you for all your help. I will see to Nathalie's well-being. You can show yourselves out, please."

He didn't meet Chat Noir's eyes. For all his son knew, Gabriel was merely concerned with his fainting assistant lying on the marble in the main foyer. Adrien could be told that he was jumping to conclusions, and finding evidence where there was none. Still, it was difficult to don a neutral expression with her nuzzled into his chest, smudging her kohl liner into his suit.

Rolling his eyes, he turned and headed up the stairs.

That woke her up. "I'm so sorry." She whispered, "I don't even remember how this had happened."

Gabriel hushed her. "You overexerted yourself. Relax. We'll talk about it later, if you want."

"I could've hurt you." Nathalie took in a weak breath.

When the reached his bedroom, he went to his master bath, and set her down. She crumpled on the floor, leaning against the copper claw-foot tub. He turned back to an armoire, pulling out several essential oils, and box of matches.

There were several aromatherapy candles around the bathroom, which he lit for the first time in the entire history of the candle's existence.

He turned on the faucets, his fingers testing the hot water that came out. When the tub was full, he stood, and turned to her, "Take a bath and relax. I'll be outside."

After handing her a robe and shutting the door behind him, he lingered until he heard her get into the bath.

Gabriel went to his closet, and withdrew old pajama pants, and shed his suit. He was dog-tired. He burrowed into the covers of his bed, and took a short nap.

That's a lie, the man could've hibernated for the rest of the year _,_ after all. He stirred when he heard a hairdryer, and chose to ignore it in favor of his pillows. He clung to sleep to the best of his ability, but he couldn't shake the notion of her shifting the intimacy of their…relationship around him.

The weight shifted, and he knew that she was in bed with him. Gabriel turned, half-asleep, and held her.

"If you apologize again, I'm going to kick you out of my bed." He threatened with slurred words.

Her eyes drifted open, and she immediately saw the clock on the nightstand. It was well past midnight.

Nathalie stirred, pulling herself out of bed to head home.

The arm around her waisted tightened for a second, and loosened, letting her go.

"You don't have to go." He told her through the darkness, "It's late."

She swallowed, still sitting on the bed. How could she ignore the pajama bottoms and t-shirt she wore, both of which belonged to him? Not facing Gabriel, she answered, "What if you had gotten hurt today?"

"I didn't." He replied indignantly. "I'm not fragile, Nathalie."

Her breath caught in her throat, "I meant—I couldn't—Gabriel, despite how much you irritate me, I couldn't…I _can't_ lose you."

He was silent. For a moment, she wasn't afraid. The man shifted on the bed, and he threw his arms around her, hugging her. "I know. I'm sorry about the scarf thing."

Her hand went his forearm, wrapped around her. "Thank you."

"Can I convince you to stay?" Gabriel brushed her hair aside, and she could feel his breath on her neck.

Nathalie pulled away from him, brushing him off and finding a pair of jeans and blouse folded over a chair. "It's not exactly appropriate."

He watched her silhouette traipse across his vision, looking like a dream. "I can think of things far more inappropriate."

"Of course you can." She replied, finally dressed. She found her heels at the food of the bed, and stepped into them, shaking her ankles until they fit perfectly. "I'm going, see you in the morning."

XXX

She called in sick the next day, and fell back asleep. Still winded, and definitely not able to face the day, she stayed under the covers of her bed, in her apartment. There was a residual feeling of guilt, knowing that she told her boss that she would be at work, but he would get over it. He's not 'fragile'.

Nathalie drifted in and out of sleep for a majority of the morning, listening to the sounds of the city beneath her.

Her ears barely registered the unlocking of her front door. Hadn't she given him a spare key to her apartment in case of emergencies? Nathalie could hardly remember in her current state.

At some point, she did hear him settle down, typing away on his keyboard. His keystrokes pulsated against her skin. Gabriel didn't have a typewriter, but he certainly treated his keyboard as though it were one, pounding and pounding away until it grated on the woman's last nerves.

Emerging from her bedroom felt like escaping her cocoon.

"She lives." He drawled, sitting at her kitchen counter.

Nathalie exhaled, "I called in sick, you know. I could give you germs."

"I don't think getting possessed by akumas can be considered dangerous." He replied, "I also brought you lunch."

"I have food."

He chuckled, not looking up form his monitor as he wrote out e-mail and after e-mail. "I don't think bananas, yogurt, and old granola count as 'food.' At least, not enough food."

She probed the takeout bag, not remarking on how he knew exactly what she ordered from that particular restaurant. _Soulmates._

"Thank you." She said finally, peeling back the parcel and pulling out a small box of pasta.

"It's the least I can do." He answered.

XXX

Nathalie and Gabriel should be kept apart at all times.

Things devolve. His hands naturally find a spot on her person, and she can only return the gesture. Spending a good decade (almost two decades) not touching your soulmate tends to…bring out a repressed sexuality.

She spends a few nights a week in his bed at the mansion. It's not so bad. He wakes up exceptionally early and she's not a morning person, and she gradually gets a corner in his closet, and a space in his bathroom. Nathalie would've taken Charlotte's closet, but she knew he would only suggest that she officially move in if she did.

Of course, this presents obstacles. The mansion was old, thankfully, and there were plenty of back stairwells, and 'servant entrances.' Reporters hadn't caught wind, and more importantly, Adrien has not figured them out.

And there was another obstacle, as well.

Gabriel told her that Adrien was moonlighting as a leather-clad superhero.

It been during a small dinner between the two of them, in a small, secluded restaurant. They were both sipping nightcaps, relishing in their meal. It was rare for either of them to go to hole-in-the-wall places, so it was a treat. The place was deserted, as they deliberately avoided the dinner rush.

Nathalie had noticed his trepidation when he took his first sip from his china cup. She leaned back after a small amount of time, and set her cup down on it's plate, and shot him a polite smile. _Say it._

"Adrien is Chat Noir." He informed her quietly. There was no sugarcoating. She often appreciated the bluntness.

It took her a second to catch up with what he said.

She inhaled, trying to keep her composure.

On the inside, however, she was cracking.

"Is that, are you sure?"

"The ring he wears on his finger is the one." He intoned. "I've known for quite some time, but you and I…it's difficult to put into words."

Nathalie could fill in the blanks, "Our relationship grants us a level of honesty and trust between each other, but not enough the point where you felt comfortable divulging your son's secret."

He shot a horrified expression at her, shocked, "No. Definitely not."

That threw her for a loop.

"You couldn't be told." Gabriel elaborated. "If you were akumatized, you would know who Chat Noir was, and attack Adrien directly." He glanced around, and placed his hand over hers, trying to calm her. "You cannot be akumatized twice, and therefore, can be trusted with this information."

Nathalie removed her glasses, and massaged the bridge of her nose, using the motion as an excuse to pull her hand away. Hopefully, he wouldn't notice the shaking. "What if _you_ get akumatized, Gabriel?"

"You'll know that I know. You can warn Adrien accordingly." He replied, unconcerned. "Even so, you know me. You know yourself. It would take a lot to ever get me to a point where I could be akumatized, and then Hawkmoth would have to make that choice, and accept the risk that I would attack him as well."

"That doesn't make me feel any _better._ " She told the man. "You're not going to stand and do nothing, are you?"

"I'm ill-equipped." He replied. "He knows I have the Peacock miraculous. I can't touch that. You can't touch that. The heroes can't take it either, until Hawkmoth is dealt with."

The woman nodded, and could simultaneously understand their situation and feel absolutely desperate. _That's parenting for you._ "We have to do something."


End file.
